


Straight Outta Snowdin

by Dracoravebird



Series: Bone Zone [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Content, Adult Frisk, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Ectobiology, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Magic, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Skeleton Frisk, Undertale Neutral Route, Undertale Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12334662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoravebird/pseuds/Dracoravebird
Summary: Years after the death of Chara, someone new shows up. She brings the promise of change, but is it good, or bad?





	1. First Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My rendition of Frisk and Chara for this fic can be found here. (http://dracoravebird.deviantart.com/art/FriskAndChara-670911813)

It had been a long time since Chara had come here. Not since well before the accident that had nearly killed himself and Gaster. But finally, his efforts had paid off. He had a human… one like him. His burgundy eyes gazed down at the figure in his arms. She was asleep, which was for the best. She would not be a happy camper when she awoke.

Chara wished he could keep her, honestly. She was beautiful. But he could not stay stationary without his host for long, or the void would pull him back whether he liked it or not. That, and he knew this was the only way to get the results he wanted. He needed her to meet the monsters. To be attacked, and hunted until she broke. Until she became clay under his hands.

Coming to the cottage by the temple grounds, Chara laid the woman down in a bed of flowers. Toriel would find her there, and would take care of her. For a moment, he simply gazed down at her, giving a frown as he cupped her face in hand, the pad of his thumb brushing over one eyelid. Briefly, he considered putting her eye out, only to grid his teeth and shake his head. It was too early to harm her personally, besides what he had done.

With a sigh, he glitch-ported away into a flower, taking it over and watching quietly to make sure no ferals emerged from the nighttime darkness to attack her.

[She won’t love you.] A familiar voice warned in the back of his mind.

[Shut up, Asriel.] Chara mentally snarled back. [She’ll be my weapon. Whether she likes it or not.]

\---------

“Ugh… my head…” Frisk murmured, one hand weakly coming up to rest on her temple.

Everything hurt. It felt like she had gotten hit by a truck. She was dizzy and disoriented… and laying in a patch of buttercups? Curious, she sat up, still holding her head. Wherever she was, it was morning. The sun was coming up. Birds were chirping. A soft breeze passed by her.

“Howdy!”

The voice made her jump and turn her head sharply. Nearby in some lush grass, there was another buttercup. This one, with a face. He seemed… odd. Aside from the obvious reasons for being odd. Smiling, but it looked fake somehow. Added to the strangely high and squeaky voice, she was quite suspicious, even if it did not show on her face.

“I’m Flowey. Flowey the Flower. Who’re you?”

Slowly, she sat up, swaying briefly before regaining her balance. “Frisk. Where am I?”

“Mm? Oh. You’re in New Home. Our king was never very creative when it came to naming things, the silly man. You must new around here. And if you’re new, you must be so confused!”

“Kinda, I guess.” She shrugged.

“Someone should teach you how things work around here. Guess little ol’ me will have to do.”

Frisk tensed as script appeared on the ground in glowing white markings, encircling them both. A heart appeared in front of her chest, the same magenta-crimson hue as her eyes. It gave her pause, her suspicion steadily rising.

“See that heart there? That’s your SOUL. It’s weak right now, but it can grow stronger by gaining LV.” Flowey explained.

“Uh-huh… And what’s LV mean?”

“Oh? That mean’s LOVE! Silly. Don’t worry. I’ll share some with you.” He winked and white spheres of energy appeared in the air behind him. “Down here, LOVE is shared through little white ‘friendliness pellets.’”

Frisk tensed a bit, brows furrowing.

“Are you ready? Move around and catch as many as you can!”

She did not trust him. Something was off, but she could not place just what it was. Quickly, she turned and spun to the side, watching the pellets speed past her and vanish into the grass behind her. Flowey forced a smile but looked unimpressed.

“Hey, buddy… You missed them. Here. Let’s try that again.”

He threw more at her. Again, she dodged to the side.

The flower gave her an incredulous look, clearly miffed. “Is this a joke? Are you braindead? RUN. INTO. THE. BULLETS. – Er… Friendliness pellets.”

Then, the woman gaped at him. “You just called them bullets, creep! I’m not running into them!”

Growling, he threw more. She ducked and turned, missing all of them as they again tried to hit her. Then, Flowey’s entire face changed. His eyes darkened, mouth becoming sharper. It was an almost demonic look… if a buttercup could look demonic. Then again, they were poisonous. Maybe she should have expected it.

“You KNOW what’s going on here, don’t you? You just WANTED to see me suffer.”

“You were pretending to be nice while trying to kill me, you fuckin weed!” Frisk countered, only to yelp as she was surrounded by an entire ring of the energy bullets.

“DIE.”

They circled closer, too fast to jump through or escape. Frisk swallowed thickly, only to watch as a fireball slammed into the flower from the side, uprooting him and throwing him from the temple courtyard where she stood. The bullets disappeared, leaving her unscathed.

Gazing up… she saw what basically looked like an anthro Falcore. A goat-dragon woman in purple robes. “You poor thing. What a foul creature, attacking a defenseless young woman. Are you alright?”

“I-I’m okay.” Frisk assured her. “Thanks.”

\---------

She did not know how long she stayed with Toriel – a week at most, three days at least – but the strange woman was nice and explained how things worked far better than Flowey. The younger woman was fed, given a guest-room, and Frisk could see something was up. Nothing bad, really. Just… sad.

The room she stayed in had two beds, with trunks filled with clothes and shoes of various sizes, ranging from child-size up to teen or adult sizes. It made Frisk think the woman had lost her family. Quiet, socially awkward. Lonely. Frisk almost felt sorry for her.

The history books Toriel had in her house were helpful. They explained that humans and monsters went to war before monsters found their own dimension to escape to. It thus made Frisk wonder just how she had wound up here of all places. It did not make sense. It also did not explain her lack of memories.

“Toriel?” Frisk gazed from around a corner, brows furrowed.

The older woman gazed up from the book she was reading and smiled softly, glasses resting atop her muzzle. “Yes, Frisk?”

“Is there someone down here I could ask about traveling through dimensions?”

The question gave her pause, mixed feelings flickering across her face. “Why do you wish to know?”

“Nothing bad! I’m sorry. I… realize that must be an odd question.” She rubbed the back of her neck, remembering how the history book had ended. “I wonder about the physics. I don’t want to go back. I’m just curious.”

“Oh. I see. Apologies.” Torie chuckled nervously. “I know someone who might be able to explain it better. He used to be Royal Scientist before he resigned. He’ll probably want to meet you, anyways.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dr. Wing Dings Gaster.”


	2. The Good Doctor

“Gaster! I’m so glad you could come.” Toriel hugged him briefly, smiling at him.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Toriel. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.” Gaster replied as he stepped into the cottage by the old temple, removing his coat and rolling his sleeves up.

“Frisk? Frisk, the friend I mentioned is here!”

“Okay!” A voice called from the kitchen before a young woman appeared, striding into the living room. “I was just checking the tea, but it isn’t done yet.”

Frisk paused, gazing up at the figure before her. He was slender and lank – not simply because he was a skeleton – but also obscenely tall in human terms. Her head barely reached his lower ribs, and she was a respectable 5’6”. He had to be around eight or nine feet. He was dressed sharply, in a white turtleneck and black slacks with a black canvas trench coat.

“Hello, Frisk.” The skeleton extended his hand. “I’m Gaster.”

“Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand, giving him a sheepish but unafraid smile.

“Likewise.”

Toriel brought the tea out of her kitchen once she used a few feral Vegetoid leaves to purify it. While giving Frisk the benefit of the doubt, the poisoning of her husband had left her timid about letting others prepare things. If Gaster noticed – he likely had, knowing him – he chose not to say anything, which she could not blame him for. Quietly, as he added some sugar to his cup of tea and stirred it, Gaster performed a Check.

* Frisk 10/10 HP 10/10 DEF  
* 1 LV 0 EXP  
* Frisk likes the last-minute touch of mint leaves.

Oh. Good. She thought the leaves were mint. After taking a sip of the warm liquid, Gaster set it down, absently resting one hand over the tea as if to pick the cup up by the rim. Frisk did not seem to mind, taking a long drink from the coffee mug that seemed comically too large in her hands.

“Now… Frisk…” Gaster began carefully. “Can you tell me how you got here?”

“I dunno. I can’t remember anything. I tried to, but…” Frowning, she trailed off a moment. “All I get are weird dreams and no idea what’s real and what isn’t.”

He contemplated this, glancing at Toriel where she stood in the kitchen doorway. “It’s entirely possible that being pulled into our dimension has caused retrograde amnesia, or some other form of trauma. Did you hit your head? Were you injured?”

She shook her head quietly.

“I see. Well, Frisk… I’m afraid we cannot risk sending you back. It could open a rift between worlds and put everyone here in very real danger.”

“I know. I read the books.” Frisk glanced at the bookcase. “I don’t mind. My dreams being what they are, well… I get the impression there isn’t much to go back to, anyways.”

Gaster sighed, looking to Toriel for permission. She nodded, and strode to another room, down the hall. “I understand. But I need to make some things a bit clearer.”

“Like what?”

There was a long, uneasy silence. Uneasy for him, anyhow. He did not know how she would take the news, and he was worried. The Check was promising. Better than Chara’s had ever been, and if his theories were correct, there was hope for her. Taking a deep breath, he gave the tea one more sip before setting it aside and gazing firmly at her. Frisk paid close attention, when he began to speak.

“There was another human whom came here. One about your age. His name was Chara. When he came here, he… pretended, to be friendly. He earned the confidence of King Asgore, Queen Toriel, and their son. Asriel.

“Some weeks later, he attempted to poison the king. When that failed, he came to me at the royal labs, and attempted to push me into the Core. A large mana centrifuge we use to power electronics here. Asriel confronted him… and they fell in.”

Surprise colored Frisk’s features, followed by a mixture of emotions. “Why would he do all that? I mean… Just… Why?”

Gaster hesitated, but then relented. “There are myths that human souls and monster souls can merge, making them more powerful. I can only presume Chara wanted to enterprise on this. At the time, Asgore was more powerful. But my fall into the Core had some side-effects. I would prefer not to discuss it.”

“Oh. Okay. I understand.” Frisk said quietly. “I… I’m sorry. That he did that to you.”

“Don’t be. You aren’t the one whom committed the act.” He took another drink of his tea, needing it to settle his nerves.

Frisk chewed her lower lip, numerous questions running through her, most of them rhetorical or existential.

“There is another matter. The King has since…” Gaster sighed, frowning. “All humans are supposed to be brought to him.”

She tensed. “W-What?”

“But there are loopholes. The Parlay Laws mean that no monster can be forced to commit an act they deem immoral. This means the Monarchists may not be able to arrest you if you’re under Loyalist protection.”

“Loyalists? Monarchists?”

“Loyalists follow Queen Toriel. They believe everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt until they prove to be friend or foe. Monarchists follow Asgore, and believe all humans are inherently a threat.”

“Which one are you?”

“Loyalist.” Gaster told her with a slight smile. “You’ve nothing to fear from me. And I may be able to keep you safe.”

“Okay. How?” Frisk questioned.

“I have two younger brothers. They could help keep an eye on you, and we have room at our house. … Finish your tea, and I’ll take you to meet them.”


	3. Skelebros

A shudder raced through Frisk’s form as she rubbed her arms, her breath fogging on the cold. She was glad for her arm-warmers, now, and just as glad that they attached to her coat sleeves. She did not have to worry about them falling down. Still, the rips in her jeans meant her legs were cold, and the snow on the road leading from the temple was almost deeper than her boots.

“We’re almost there.” Gaster supplied, striding beside her at a slow enough pace for her to keep up, his hands in his coat pockets.

“You live here?” She questioned.

“Yes. I prefer it to the other parts of the kingdom. Hotland is unbearable, and Waterfall floods a touch too often. So my brothers and I live in Snowdin Town.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” Frisk sniffled. “I like cold weather better than hot.”

A breathy chuckle left him. “I think you’ll like it here, then.”

Crisp winter wind rustled the numerous coniferous trees around them, fresh flakes of snow flitting through the air. Far ahead, Frisk could make out the silhouette of a building. As they drew closer, she saw it was a kiosk, or perhaps a sentry station. There was another skeleton seated behind it, leaned back in a chair, hands clasped behind his skull and feet propped on the counter.

He was dressed much more casually than Gaster. A blue hoody lined with white sherpa fleece, the hood having a faux fur hem. Under it was a grey thermal shirt, and he wore both black and white shorts, and a pair of dark blue converse with mismatched socks. Looking at him, she could see the resemblance to Gaster. While this one bore a rounder face, they had the same nose and cheekbones.

Beside him, she saw a microwave and condiment bottles, and in front of the kiosk, there was a sign. It was a list of different hotdogs and prices.

When he heard the crunch of snow under foot, Sans cracked an eye, only to jolt upright with wide eye-sockets when he saw Gaster’s companion. It was a woman. A HUMAN woman. Dressed like an Anime character, no less. Ruby-colored eyes were gazing at him not with unease, nor disgust, but inquisitiveness.

“Slow day?” Gaster questioned.

“It usually is.” Sans shrugged.

The former scientist gazed down to the woman. “Frisk, this is one of my brothers, Sans.”

He extended a hand towards the woman. When she took it, she heard a rather loud raspberry and felt a buzz against her hand. She snickered, and then laughed, pulling her hand away. Sans chuckled, smirking. She was cute, at least.

“I presume Papyrus is still out on his rounds?” Gaster questioned.

“Yeah, but he said he’ll try to wrap up early since it’s his turn to cook.” Sans shrugged sitting back down and propping his head in hand.

“Ah. Well, I need to get back to my own shift. Perhaps you could take a break and show Frisk around?”

“Sure.” His left eye slid closed. “Need me to call Pap and tell him to make some extra?”

“I’ll take care of it. I think he’ll have a few more questions than you.” Gaster informed him.

Frisk watched as a whirl of glowing mist suddenly surrounded the scientist. One second, he was there, and the next, he was gone. She blinked in surprise, tilting her head.

“I take it humans can’t teleport.” Sans mused.

“Not really. Is that what that was?” Frisk turned her gaze toward him.

“Yep. … You want a hotdog?”

Frisk smiled, eyes lighting up, but it was brief, and she sighed. “I don’t have any money on me.”

“First one’s on the house, babe. Consider it a ‘Welcome to Snowdin’ present.”

“Oh. Well, sure!” She stepped up to the counter, content to blame her blush on the cold if she needed to.

“One, or two?”

“Just one, please.”

Sans nodded, getting one from the cooler and putting it in the microwave. The bun was taken out of a steamer – lucky her, it was the last one – and set on a napkin. Frisk glanced around, having the strangest sensation that she was being watched. She could not place it, but at the same time, she guessed this road must have been used a lot to get from the temple grounds to the town.

“You want anything on it? I’ve got ketchup, mustard, relish… Ranch dressing, if you’re into that.” Sans wiggled a brow at her.

“Is it dill relish, or sweet?” Frisk questioned.

“Dill.”

“Relish, then.”

He nodded, assembling the hotdog and handing it to her. She thanked him quietly. When she bit into it, she was greeted by the snap of skin and a pleasant flavor. A real hotdog, then. Not some cheap lunchmeat-isle BS. She appreciated it, eating while getting a better look at her surroundings. Frisk found she could still feel eyes on her.

“You okay, babe?” Sans asked her, his arms folded on the counter.

“Yeah. I just have this feeling…” Frisk muttered between bites.

“Oh. Well, you’ll get used to that.” With a shrug, he set up a ‘closed’ sign and stood, scooting in his chair. “C’mon. I know a shortcut.”

It did not take her long to finish her snack, Sans walking over and taking her free hand. He led her along the road, and… It was like a cloud had passed overhead, however briefly or quickly. A fleeting darkness before she suddenly found they were at the entrance of a town. There were beings of all sorts. Bunnies, dogs, mice, ‘monsters,’ and such. She was awed, and strangely, she felt at home. Comfortable. More so than around other humans. It was a welcome feeling.

“It’s a small town. Not much to do.” Sans supplied, letting go of her hand and sliding his hands into his pockets. “But we do have a library, and a pub.”

“Sounds cozy.” Frisk said with a notable happy tone.

“Snug as a bug in a rug.”

A soft giggle left her.

“But I think the more important thing is teaching you who to avoid. Dings probably already told you about our political situation out here.”

“Yeah.” Her smile fell. “He did.”

“Rule of thumb. If you see someone in plate armor, they’re Monarchists.” Sans led her towards the pub, Grillby’s, which was marked with a neon sign. “So you should avoid them.”

“Okay.”

He halted, the pair standing at the doors. “Now… You’re with me. They probably won’t bother you. Just stay close. Okay?”

Frisk nodded.

The skeleton paid it no mind when the woman linked arms with him, the pair stepping inside together. It was pleasantly toasty in this place, enough so that her exposed skin burned slightly from having been in the cold. The air smelt of… of coffee, cocoa, tea, and cider. Of spices and seasonings. Most notably, of cinnamon. It was a cozy smell.

While Frisk could feel stares upon her, she chose not to linger on it, and for her own safety, did not glance around. Sans led her to a booth near the bar, taking the side facing it so she was closer to the bar, so she was facing the rest of the room. She instantly knew that this was to her benefit.

“Okay. The puppy-looking guys and gals around the table in the corner, playing poker. They’re called Tems. They’re Loyalists and have a town some ways south of here in Waterfall. I wouldn’t advise trying to get there without someone with you.”

“Why?” Frisk asked.

“Undyne, captain of the royal guard, is a pretty firm Monarchist. She’s a friend, but… she takes her job pretty seriously. She and Prince Asriel were close friends, and she took what happened pretty hard. Just try to avoid her.”

“What does she look like?”

Sans thought a moment. “Kinda like a betta fish. Blue scales. Eyepatch. Wears her fin in a pony-tail. Usually runs around in her armor, spearing things with a harpoon.”

“Okay… She sounds intense.”

“You betta believe it.” He smirked.

Frisk snorted, unable to stop the smile that came over her.

“Anyways, the guy at the bar smoking a dog biscuit is Doggo. He’s neutral and probably won’t pay you much attention unless Undyne is around. If you need to talk to him or something, make sure you talk and wave. He can’t see that well if an object or person is holding still.”

“Who’s the Tem next to him?” She inquired curiously.

“That’s his GF, Temmie. She’s mayor of Tem Village and owner of Tem Shop. She’s pretty nice, so you shouldn’t have any issues with her. Loyalist.”

Their conversation trailed off as a figure approached the table. Frisk could only describe him as an elemental, his form comprised entirely of flame and dressed like a bartender or banker out of the old west. He smiled, eyes a brilliant gold behind his spectacles.

“Welcome back, Sans. … I thought you already had your lunch-break.”

“I figured my friend here could use something to drink.” Sans looked towards Frisk. “He makes a mean hot toddy.”

“I’ll have to remember that next time I stop by.” Frisk smiled, at the pair. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Frisk.”

“Grillby.” The bartender shook her hand. “What’ll you have?”

“Hot cocoa, please.”

He nodded, and headed back to the bar.

“Grillbz is a Loyalist and a close friend.” Sans informed her. “If you need to, duck in here and he’ll help you out.”

The skeleton continued explaining when her drink arrived and she sipped at it, letting it warm her from within as well as warm her fingers where she held the cup. He informed her that the two guard lieutenants, Dogami and Dogaressa, were Monarchists and by-the-book guards. Where Undyne was more likely to kill her on-sight, the pair would probably arrest her. Sans was honest, and told her that both options would end the same way. Her best bet would be to run, and if she was out at night – and alone for whatever reason – hide.

This struck her as odd. “Hide from what?”

Sans hesitated, gaze drifting off to the side. “Dings could explain it better.”

\---------

Some time passed. A couple hours only seemed like a few minutes, Sans practicing knock-knock jokes on her. Before long, it was seven-thirty and last rounds was called. The bar was closed up, and the pair did not leave alone. Grillby and Gaster – turns out the former scientist had become a chef since he resigned – headed out as well once the place was cleaned up, about half an hour later.

Frisk was curious, on that front. Sans could tell she had questions, but she stayed quiet, whether out of politeness or embarrassment. At first, he worried how she would react considering stories of human culture, but when she watched Gaster and Grillby link arms, chatting – and flirting – without a care in the world as if they were not there, all Sans saw in her eyes was that look people got when they saw something cute, and a smile.

Well, that was a relief.

A chilled wind swept past them, the temperature only decreasing with nighttime. Frisk shuddered, her jacket normally warm but doing little to shield her. The woman hugged herself, but stayed quiet, some disconnected part of her mind analyzing the sensation while she tried to force down her shivers. When she felt something heavy suddenly drape across her shoulders, she yelped, nearly falling forward.

Frisk brought her hands up, running them across the soft blue material. It smelled faintly of wood smoke, like a fireplace, as well as something that made her think of blackberries and lemon peel. Her gaze turned to Sans, whom had lost a significant amount of bulk with the absence of his jacket, hands in his shorts pockets as he walked beside her.

“Thanks, Sans.” She chimed.

“No problem, babe. We can find you something warmer back at the house.” Sans told her, left eye again sliding closed.

The smile she gave was warm, and friendly.

When they came upon the house, Frisk saw it was built to their scale. Sans was short compared to others they had seen, and even then, her head only barely reached his shoulder. Even the anthro, dog-like Tems were taller than most humans. Thus, the house that Gaster, Sans, and Papyrus was far bigger than most homes like it she had seen.

While it was his own house, Gaster knocked to announce them before opening the door. They were greeted by the scent of garlic bread and fragrant tomato sauce. Snow was stomped off boots in the foyer, and coats and jackets were hung up.

It was a wonderful place. Better than the home she vaguely recalled in half-remembered dreams. The living room had a sizable television, a large Persian rug, sofa, loveseat, and an armchair. Book cases rested against the wall to the side, opposite of a staircase that led upwards to a set of rooms. Three, from the number of doors. Past this room was the kitchen.

“Papyrus?” Gaster called, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. “We’re home! And we have company!”

“Come on in!” A voice called, reminding her of a particular cartoon from the eighties or nineties. “I just put the noodles on, so it’ll be done soon!” 

The kitchen was spacious, with an island counter and modern appliances that made her think of a chef’s kitchen. To one side was a doorway, but the door was closed. She guessed it led to someone’s room, or a bathroom. Maybe a storage closet. Moreover, the third brother caught Frisk’s attention. He was between Sans and Gaster in height, with a thin face that had familiar features and orange eye-lights whereas his siblings had cyan and mint. Over his orange t-shirt and tan cargo shorts, he wore a plain black apron, and was chopping some parsley. Setting the knife aside, he gazed up, and gave a wide, friendly smile.

“Hello, there!” Papyrus greeted almost excitedly. “Welcome!”

“Thanks.” Frisk gave a little wave.

“I’ll get the extra chairs.” Grillby volunteered, turning and striding to the closet under the stairs.

“Thanks, love.” Gaster said quietly, a content smile on his features.

“It smells delicious in here.” Frisk thought aloud.

Sans smirked at her. “Wait until you taste it.”

“Indeed!” Papyrus boasted. “My spaghetti cannot be bested!”

The fire elemental returned with a pair of chairs, moving the seats around the long dining table. Gaster set out plates and silverware while Sans chatted with Papyrus and said a couple jokes that made the taller brother both laugh and give a disapproving look.

It was… a feeling. A warm, pleasant feeling that just made her think of… home.


	4. Weed Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not enough sleep thanks to my jerk of a neighbor. Have some filler. T^T'

Frisk gave no complaint when the brothers worked out a schedule. Most days, she would be at Grillby’s pub since that was the safest. The elemental had even offered her a job as a waitress, which she accepted. She may as well, after all.

Right now, she and Gaster were at home, since Papyrus was off on patrols and Sans was managing his sentry station – hotdog stand, honestly. Frisk did not mind, and Sans even offered to let her come with him if she got bored with her job. It seemed monsters were far more fluid with taking days off for things like that.

“Gaster?”

“Hm?” The skeleton replied as he stood stirring some melted chocolate, the pair making some peppermint bark at home since their shifts had ended.

“I have a question. I asked Sans, before, and he said to ask you.” Frisk said, pausing to smash the mints sealed in a baggie with a jar of peanut butter.

“Well, feel free. What did you want to know?”

“When Sans was giving me a rundown of safety, he said that if I get caught outside at night, I should hide until one of you can find me. What does that mean? I mean… why?”

“Ah. Yes, that explains some things. Most people don’t feel comfortable talking about it.” He sighed, pouring the chocolate onto a tray and spreading it around with an icing knife.

Frisk arched a brow at him.

“To explain that, you need to know how electricity and such works in our realm. There’s a power plant under the labs off in Hotland. That’s where the Core is located. The Core is a sizable mana centrifuge that collects, refines, and distributes arcane energy.”

She handed him the smashed mints, and helped sprinkle the pieces onto the chocolate.

“When…” Gaster took a deep breath to center himself. “When Chara turned on us, he and Prince Asriel fell in. It caused a cascade failure and the First Meltdown.”

“Is that why it’s called Hotland?”

“Partly. Hotland is mostly hot because of the warmth the refinement process causes.” He slid the tray into the fridge to cool and harden.

“Are you alright?” Frisk asked, her voice quiet and full of concern.

“I’m alright.” Gaster assured her with a stifled frown. “The amount of arcane energy that saturated the area killed half the population there. The second half… changed. Became mutated, feral creatures.”

Surprise, and pity crossed her features.

“They cannot distinguish friend from foe, and attack and kill anything that they come across. They’re nocturnal, so there’s an unspoken curfew at night. It’s a very dangerous time to be outside. And Hotland was only recently deemed safe to live in, again.”

“So, it’s like a nuclear reactor. Magic is like radiation.”

“Nuclear?” Gaster questioned, curiosity piqued.

“Yeah. Except… nuclear radiation is mostly lethal. There’re usually no survivors at all.”

“I see. And here I though magic was the most volatile form of power.”

“I don’t know much about how it works.” Frisk shrugged. “How long until the peppermint bark is ready?”

“It should be finished by the time supper’s finished cooking. Speaking of, would you like to help?”

“Sure.”

\---------

A pop and a wispy fizzle announced Sans’ arrival via teleport. The sound made Frisk jump, earning a chuckle from him. However, a look of concern came over his features when he glanced around the kitchen. Usually, even when it wasn’t his day to cook, Papyrus tried to be home to help out. While one brother and their houseguest were accounted for, the second brother was missing.

“Where’s Paps?”

Gaster halted where he stood at the counter, slicing vegetables. “He called me earlier and said he was going to come home with you after his patrol.”

There was a pause, and an almost palpable unease. Sans chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I missed him. I’ll head back and see if we can catch up.”

“I’ll go with you.” Frisk offered.

He didn’t protest, linking arms with her.

She was convinced that no matter how many times she was teleported, she would never get used to it. A sudden whoosh surrounded them, warm air suddenly cold and, rather than smelling of scampi and pasta, smelt only of pine and snow.

“C’mon. It’s a straight shot from here to town. There’s nowhere else he’d go, so we’ll run into him on the way.” Sans told her.

“Gaster said ferals are nocturnal. Would they attack now? The sun’s barely setting.” Frisk walked quickly alongside him to compensate for his longer strides.

“Probably not. But I’m worried.”

“About?”

He glanced at her. “Word got around that you’re here. Some people might’ve decided to hassle him about it. Guard or not, Paps isn’t the kind of guy to stick up for himself. For others? Sure. But not himself.”

“We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

His eye-lights were so dim that they could barely be seen, but he nodded.

Frisk hoped she was right. She did not want to imagine anything happening to Papyrus. To any of them. Along the bitterness of worry, she felt a flicker of… something else. Something hot and sticky in the pit of her chest. Halfway down the road between the temple and the town, the pair spied familiar bootprints in the snow, and something else.

“Oh my god.” Frisk’s hand came up to rest over her mouth. “A-Are those…? Is that…?”

“Nah.” Sans knelt to examine the broken objects. “These’re Bone Attacks. There was a fight.”

“These drag marks… They lead off into the woods.”

He stood, gazing in the direction she pointed. Without hesitation, he jogged briskly into the woods, and she followed. The trail led them to a small clearing, and their pace brought them there just in time to see Papyrus knocked backwards into a tree.

“You said you would help me!” A distorted voice shouted in a shrill tone, barely audible over the rustle of leaves. “I don’t appreciate lying, Papyrus!”

Frisk only spared the giant buttercup creature a glance. She ran for Papyrus. The woman struggled to get his taller form up on his feet. Sans stood between them and this… this THING, palm raised as he summoned a pair of Blasters. The plant monster reared back with a hiss.

“Sans!”

He fired. During the bright light and distraction, Sans rushed to the pair, grabbing them. 

\---------

Gaster jolted when the pop of teleporting was followed by the sound of three people tumbling to the floor. He all but tore off his cooking apron, rushing into the living-room. Cradling a fractured humerus, Papyrus pushed himself to sit up while Frisk bolted to her feet. Sans tried to sit up, only to get dizzy and lay back down from the sudden exertion on his magic.

“Stars, what happened?!” Gaster knelt beside Papyrus, healing magic glowing a soothing pale hue in his palm.

“We were attacked.” Frisk told him. “I think it was the same flower that tried to kill me, before.”

“What?” Papyrus blinked, seeming surprised or tentative at the news. “It can’t be. Flowey wouldn’t…”

“Bro,” Sans finally sat up, arching a brow at him, “he threw you into a tree and broke your arm. Pretty sure that creep is bad news.”

The taller brother frowned, wincing at the soft crackling sound of his arm being healed over.

“What was he talking about? When he said you’d help him?”

“At first, he didn’t say. He asked me to promise I would, first.” Then, a guilty look crossed Papyrus’ features. “He wanted me to spy on Frisk. I told him that was rude, and she was our friend. I refused. And he didn’t take it well.”

Gaster sighed heavily, looking over at the other two. “Sans. Frisk. Could you give us a moment alone?”

“Sure.” Sans nodded. “Can you gimme a hand, babe?”

Frisk helped him to his feet, the pair moving upstairs and into Sans’ room, closing the door behind them. Gaster helped Papyrus over to the couch and sat beside him, concern apparent on his features, as well as unease.

“Papyrus, can you tell me about Flowey?” Gaster questioned. “How you met, first?”

“I met him while I was on patrol on the border to Waterfall. We just bumped into one another and we chatted.” Papyrus supplied. “He seemed alright. He didn’t attack me, or anyone.”

“When did this change?”

“Just today! I didn’t even tell him about Frisk, and the clearing is so far from town! I makes me wonder…” He frowned.

The older skeleton mustered a soft smile. “With good reason. You’re a good person, sticking up for Frisk like that.”

“Thank you.”

His smile disappeared. “There’s something else bothering you.”

Papyrus nodded. “How did he hear about her? And why did he want me to…?”

“To spy on her?”

“Well… That wasn’t the only think he asked me to do. He said a lot of mean things. But I know they aren’t true. And he wanted me to… to bring her to see him.”

Gaster’s eye-lights flickered with mixed emotions before his expression grew stern. “I don’t want you going near him ever again, Papyrus. Understand? He’s dangerous, and he’s up to something.”

“I know. I… I won’t go back. I promise.”

\---------

“Are you alright?” Frisk questioned as she and Sans sat down on his bed.

“I’m fine. Just woozy.” Sans shrugged, lying back and staring up at the ceiling. “It happens now and then. Can’t say I’ve ever tried teleporting while doing an attack.”

She frowned, hugging herself.

“Somethin wrong?”

“What if Flowey came after him because of me?”

Sans blinked at her in surprise.

“What if staying here is putting people in danger?” Frisk murmured.

“Hey, now…” Sans pushed himself to sit up and gently wrapped an arm around her. “Don’t think like that. Besides, even if he came at the town or one of us, we’re too strong for him. Paps only got caught off-guard because he thought Flowey was a friend.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Everything’ll be fine. Papyrus is never fooled twice.” He smirked. “And neither am I.”

The statement made Frisk give a sheepish smile, his words offering her some measure of reassurance.

\---------


End file.
